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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26944297">soot and ash and blood and that's furever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odaigahara/pseuds/Odaigahara'>Odaigahara</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 Plus [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Animal Traits, Brotherly Bonding, Collars, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Delirium, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Self-Hatred, Sickfic, Whumptober 2020, Wolf Instincts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:27:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26944297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odaigahara/pseuds/Odaigahara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 2: Collared</p><p>*</p><p>Roman closed his eyes, opened them, realized he’d lost time- and someone knocked, sending one of the instincts he tried so hard to suppress careening into view. </p><p>“Roman, kiddo?” Patton called through the door, but Roman could tell from the bed that he smelled wrong, not completely Patton at all. There was someone with him. A <i>snake</i> was with him. “Are you doing okay?”</p><p>His lips tried to draw back in a snarl. Roman shook his head and called, “Taking a bit of a break, is all!”</p><p>“For eighteen hours?” Patton asked, more uncertain, and Roman froze.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders &amp; Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 Plus [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>190</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>soot and ash and blood and that's furever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW's at end notes.</p><p>Thanks to parallelmonsoon and alicat54c for betaing!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roman knew something was wrong when being in the living room became intolerable. </p><p>Before that he’d just had the sniffles, maybe a hint of a cough- but working on the next video had been more important, especially since they were all so raw from the wedding, and he’d had to stay useful. </p><p>If he was doing his job, he had every excuse to ignore Janus in favor of being productive. He could hang out with Patton whenever the snake wasn’t around, or bother Virgil until they decided on a game or a movie together, or even argue with Logan to let off some steam. He could brainstorm, and include every Side he <em> usually </em> would, with Deceit nowhere in sight.</p><p>So being sick was no reason not to be in the living room- not unless Roman counted the reasons he didn’t like to acknowledge. <em> Those </em> reasons said he was weak and should hide for a while until he got better or died. They were suitably dramatic, which was the only reason he was listening at all, but... this was also the only inspiration he’d had in weeks. He had to keep going. He had to look strong.</p><p>Really, there was only himself to blame when he found himself curled up in bed with a cough wrecking his throat. He felt cold, but his blankets only helped so much; he burrowed under them anyway, debating whether or not to call Patton for chicken soup or comfort, and remembered with a scowl that he was cooking with Janus today.</p><p>Janus might insist on coming along. Worse, he’d know that Roman was ill and couldn’t protect Patton or Virgil or Logan or anyone, and then who knew what he’d do? Something treacherous, most likely. Roman couldn’t risk showing that kind of weakness.</p><p>He drank the rest of his water and flopped back on his covers, staring up at his star-bedazzled ceiling. The constellations weren’t accurate, but he loved them anyway in their galaxy swooshes and swirls. Accuracy was for Logan, anyway; Roman could make do with aesthetic, like Oscar Wilde before him.</p><p>He closed his eyes, opened them, realized he’d lost time- and someone knocked, sending one of the instincts Roman tried so hard to suppress careening into view. </p><p>“Roman, kiddo?” Patton called through the door, but Roman could tell from the bed that he smelled wrong, not completely Patton at all. There was someone with him. A <em> snake </em> was with him. “Are you doing okay?”</p><p>His lips tried to draw back in a snarl. Roman shook his head and called, “Taking a bit of a break, is all!”</p><p>“For eighteen hours?” Patton asked, more uncertain, and Roman froze. <em> Eighteen- </em> there was no way he’d slept that long-</p><p>“Yes?” he tried, raising his voice. “Evidently.”</p><p>“Okay,” Patton said, and then, quieter: “You’d tell me if you needed help, right? I know we haven’t gotten along as well recently, but I’m here for you. I always will be.”</p><p>Roman wanted to bolt toward the door and beg him to come in- to curl up with his head on Patton’s lap and rest, secure in the knowledge that the other Side was there, keeping watch- but that wasn’t a thought a Light Side would have, and far too needy and barbaric regardless. Patton could be as touchy-feely as he wanted, being the Heart; Thomas’s Creativity enjoyed no such liberties. </p><p>“I know, Padre,” he said, and the worst part was he really did. “I’ll be sure to come out sooner rather than later.”</p><p>Patton left. Roman stood up and paced, unable to focus on creating but equally unable to think of anything else, and found himself on the floor.</p><p>He groaned and blinked, sight fuzzy and dark, and dragged himself upright. His head was pounding even worse now, sinuses clogged and lungs aching to cough. It seemed even pacing was out of the question.</p><p>He was so cold. His face felt flushed, but the rest of him was ice, chilly and disorienting. Clearly he needed more rest than he was getting. A good night’s sleep should be enough, and then he could be back on his feet, back at work, showing Thomas that he needed him-</p><p>A whine escaped his throat at the thought of Thomas <em> not </em> needing him, realizing Remus was better after all and casting Roman aside, and this time Roman couldn’t hold it back. </p><p>He <em> should </em> go to Thomas, he thought, sniffling. He should bring him something new he made and curl up close to him, and maybe Thomas would say Roman was his hero and he loved him and Roman could stay.</p><p>He was about to sink out before he caught himself again, and the terror of almost revealing his biggest secret froze him through. What was he <em> thinking</em>, he couldn’t just- <em> go </em> to Thomas, like some feral mutt. He was supposed to be a prince.</p><p>A prince who had been hiding a rather important facet of himself for some time, perhaps, but a prince nonetheless. He couldn’t show his true colors <em> now</em>, not when only Dark Sides had animal traits. It didn’t matter that his and Remus’s mythological namesakes had influenced them both.</p><p>Remus could be a wolf all he wanted, but Roman had to be the one who slayed them. He couldn’t just roll up to Logan and Patton and Virgil and beg for attention, needy and ferocious and barely thinking at all, couldn’t afford to stop feeling so <em> alone </em> all the time.</p><p>He was still so dizzy. If he got up again before he slept this off and didn’t catch himself in time- if someone <em> found out- </em></p><p>He imagined Janus finding out, imagined having to bear his mockery and scorn and being told he was just like Remus after all, nothing separating them but delusions of goodness. Being told he was worse, since Remus didn’t lie to everyone around him and always had new ideas, no matter how gruesomely he presented them. That Janus didn’t need to flatter or care about him anymore, so why would he bother keeping this secret or staying around, and then Janus would leave while Roman’s pack abandoned him for the betrayal-</p><p>No. Not pack. Family.</p><p>Whatever. He couldn’t stand to lose them either way. </p><p>Roman mustered up all the focus he could and felt a weight settle around his neck, mentally attaching the chain to his bedpost where he couldn’t claw it loose. </p><p>The collar <em> hurt</em>, a smidge too tight and horribly degrading, bringing tears to his eyes just by the feel of it- but it was necessary. If he was really going to be so thoughtless, to risk his standing among his family for the sake of wanting comfort, he deserved a little pain as punishment. It was nothing compared to how much it would hurt to reveal that he was a liar and a hypocrite, no better than the worst Dark Side himself. That he was a beast rather than a hero.</p><p>Not that that wasn’t accurate. Roman could feel his teeth sharpening in his mouth, habitual shapeshifting falling away now that he couldn’t keep it up. He remembered laughing at Janus’s name, and the expressions on Thomas and Patton’s faces when they’d seen how ugly Roman could get. </p><p>He’d finally shown his true colors, and they weren’t very princely at all.</p><p>Roman shivered. He’d had fevers before, when Thomas approached creative burnout. He knew how delusional he could get, how reduced to instinct and emotion. He’d learned a while back that leaving himself unrestrained led to more questions than he wanted to answer.</p><p>He was lucky that it had been Patton he’d tracked down, the last time. Patton had let him cuddle and sniffle and hadn’t asked any questions, since presumably wanting to cuddle and cry was something Patton assumed was normal- but if Roman had gone to Virgil, or, Zeus forbid, <em> Logan- </em></p><p>His skull hurt. He took a breath, feeling miserable and idiotic, and couldn’t bring himself to crawl back onto the bed. He dragged a blanket onto the floor instead, curling up on it to hide his weak points. </p><p>The blanket didn’t smell like family. It didn’t smell like anyone but himself. If he was sneaky, he might be able to steal from one of the others- <em>no</em>. No, that was cruel and- and villainous. He shouldn’t even be thinking about it.</p><p>He <em> wouldn’t </em>think about it.</p><p>Roman closed his aching eyes.</p><p>Waking up felt like walking into a war zone. Every part of him felt hot and painful, and he was- <em> alone </em> , he was alone he couldn’t smell anyone where <em> were </em> they-</p><p>Roman tried to lurch to his feet and choked, stumbling and clawing at the thing around his neck. His nails came away bloody, throat chafed and bleeding, but he couldn’t get it off. He didn’t understand why it <em>wouldn’t come off.</em></p><p>There wasn’t enough strength in him to keep trying. Roman whimpered and huffed, shaking with fever, and his eyes blurred with tears.</p><p>His pack was <em> gone</em>. They didn’t care about him. He’d made them mad at him, and now no one would help him because he didn’t deserve it. </p><p>A mournful howl built up in his throat, but he managed to swallow it back. His muscles felt weak and trembly, mouth rasping and dry; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had water to drink.</p><p>In the hallway, someone moved. </p><p>Roman shrank back, growl building in his throat, and the presence stopped outside his door. He stayed silent and watchful, wondering if he could fight off a threat in his den while he was collared and sick and abandoned, and it passed without so much as a knock.</p><p>It wasn’t a trick. No one tried to break in. Roman subsided, almost wishing there’d been a fight so he could have done <em> something </em>, and was wracked by coughs so bad he tasted blood in his throat.</p><p>He tried to sleep, but his dreams were flushed and horrifying, blurs of color and rejection and fear. He kept waking up crying, kept trying to sink out or leave and getting stopped by the chain around his neck. He managed to summon water once, he thought, but half of it spilled before he could get it to his lips, materialized on a plate instead of in a glass. </p><p>Stupid, broken Creativity. No wonder his pack had left him to sicken and die.</p><p>His canines were razors in his mouth, cutting into his lips and making them bleed.</p><p>Roman fell asleep sobbing, whimpering animal cries that disgusted him to hear, and when he opened his eyes again it was to a familiar scent in the air, dark and musty and vaguely sweet, like licorice. </p><p>“What the <em> fuck</em>,” his packmate blurted, door closing behind him as he rushed forward, and Roman drew back and snapped at the air.</p><p>Virgil froze, scent going scared, and Roman realized what he’d done a minute late. He’d snarled at his packmate, who only wanted to help, who didn’t want him to die alone-</p><p>Roman whined low in his throat and shrank back, trying to apologize, and Virgil said, “You’re a- you know what, this actually makes sense, but seriously, <b> <em>what</em> </b> <b>.”</b> His voice was on the verge of echoing, wrong and frightened. “Can you understand me right now? I’m getting this collar off you. I can’t believe you did this to yourself, do you have any idea how long you’ve just been in here sick, you moron?”</p><p>Roman watched nervously as Virgil approached, flinching when he touched the inflamed skin around the collar. “No,” he protested, lisping around his sharper teeth. “’S not- I’ll sink out.”</p><p>“No, you won’t,” Virgil said, so certain that Roman paused, bewildered- and before he could stop him Virgil’s own power flickered out, loosening the collar and sending it to the floor. Roman jerked back and snarled, the brush of fear raising his hackles, and Virgil held up his hands. “See? Still here.”</p><p>But you’re not <em> supposed </em> to be, Roman wanted to say, understanding sinking in. Virgil was here, which meant he <em> knew</em>, which meant everyone would and they’d <em> hate him leave him make him </em> alone <em> and no one would </em>love him-</p><p>Virgil moved to step forward, and Roman growled, cold with self-hatred and despair. Virgil must already hate him. Virgil was in his den but he wasn’t- he wouldn’t <em> help</em>, he’d make things <em> worse</em>, and Roman would never get to be one of his pack again.</p><p>“Get- get out,” he forced himself to say, instincts screaming to creep closer and nip Virgil’s chin, appease him so he’d stay. “I don’t want you here.” His voice broke at that. Virgil was staring at him like he’d never seen him before, probably categorizing him as a villain in his head, and wasn’t that a fine punishment for calling Virgil one all these years?</p><p>“Have you been a wolf this whole time?” Virgil asked, looking nauseous. He didn’t try to come closer. “Princey, that’s-"</p><p>Roman snarled, lunging forward, and he could <em> see </em> Virgil’s reflexes take over; the other Side burst to his feet and out the door before Roman could touch him.</p><p>The grief welled up immediately. Roman stared at the door, shaking and whimpering, but Virgil didn’t reappear. Roman had shown himself to be a beast in truth. Virgil would never trust him again, and everything hurt so <em> much </em>and he was so cold-</p><p>Another presence appeared, so sudden and startling that Roman whirled and bit at it, certain that it was a threat. Then the scent hit, oldest and most familiar, just as animal as his- and Remus charged and shoved Roman down, pinning him in place. </p><p>“Unholy Jesus on a fuckstick, Ses-Emo Street wasn’t kidding!” he said, sniffing at Roman’s face. Roman snarled at him, shocked and humiliated, and tried to kick him off- but Remus fixed a firm hand around the back of his neck, and suddenly he <em> couldn’t. </em></p><p>He froze and stared, a cacophony of feelings rising up in him and screaming <em> family older listen, </em> and Remus said, “Did you seriously invent wolf bondage without me? I’m hurt, brother mine, we could’ve made a killing in furry porn. Get a ton of cash and offer in-person performances and when the fursuits arrive we steal them and reanimate them and take over a small town with <em> fabric zombies! </em> How’s <em> that </em> for a twist on classic horror.”</p><p>Roman whined in confusion, and Remus let him up, cocking his head. “Wow, you’re really far gone, how sick are you? Did you puke yet?”</p><p>Roman didn’t feel nauseous. He shook his head, not really sure what he was replying to, and bristled when Remus moved to come closer again. Remus was- was <em> fellow-wolf</em>, warm and safe and <em> there</em>, but he wasn’t supposed to be. Roman couldn’t let down his guard. He was dying and sick and had scared Virgil and being near Remus would make it <em> worse</em>, make them hate him more-</p><p>“Huh,” Remus said, staring at him, then lunged and tackled him onto the blanket again, making it smell like Roman-and-Remus instead of just Roman. </p><p>Roman struggled and kicked, but Remus didn’t let him up. “Don’t be such a crybaby,” he scoffed, “or crypuppy, whatever the fuck. <em> You </em> know this whole place smells wrong.” At Roman’s snap at his face, he pressed him further down and kept talking, cackling words that Roman couldn’t follow well enough to understand. Under it was a low, friendly rumble, not a growl but an acknowledgement, <em> I’m here I’m stronger I’ll guard you. </em></p><p>Roman couldn’t make him leave. He subsided under the warm pressure, nipping at his brother’s chin in apology and squirming until his hold shifted a little. He still felt hot and dizzy, limbs aching, but there was another wolf with him now, watching in case things got bad. He didn’t have to be quite so scared.</p><p>Remus patted his head, and he whined, kind of wanting to growl to show he wasn’t just rolling over but wanting the contact more. Remus smelled so <em> interesting </em> when Roman wasn’t thinking with his human brain. Roman wanted to keep him close.</p><p>His brother kept petting him, snuggled up like when they were little and neither of them had to worry about whether Sides acted human or not. Roman stayed with him, terror blotted out by the lovely scents of blood and rot, and rested his eyes for a little while. </p><p>He tried to clean his neck at one point, blinking when he realized he couldn’t reach with just his face and trying to fix it with clumsy hands; Remus licked his neck instead, which was possibly the grossest thing that had ever happened to him, but with his human brain only half-online, it didn’t feel bad. </p><p>It felt like grooming, close and safe. Like Remus cared about him. </p><p>“‘Course I do,” Remus grumbled, and Roman startled; he hadn’t realized he’d mumbled his thoughts aloud. “We’re pack, dumbass. Just ‘cause you wanna play goody-goody with Nerdy Wolverine and the Little Boy Blue Fairy doesn’t mean that stopped, keep up.”</p><p>“But we’re not,” Roman tried, and attempted to gather his thoughts. There was an important reason he couldn’t be like this, couldn’t be near Remus, but he couldn’t think of it. Remus was right next to him, and he’d summoned a bunch of the rest of the pack’s things, a black cat pillow and a spare dress shirt and an old frayed cardigan, even a grayish-black cape for them to lie on. The den finally smelled <em> right</em>, like a place Roman could be while he was ill. He didn’t know why something about the situation still felt strange. “You’re not here,” he managed, because that felt right. “When I’m- you’re <em> not </em>. No one’s here.”</p><p>The tears welled up again. Remus hit him in the face with a pillow, making Roman squirm to nail him with one back, and said, “I’m here now, aren’t I? Inevitable, like a meningitis B outbreak on a college campus! No way you’re getting rid of me.”</p><p>Roman blinked at him. “I’m not?” he asked, and his canines were still too long in his mouth. Remus grinned with a mouthful of the same sharp teeth.</p><p>“Nah,” he said, plain as fact, and propped his arms on Roman’s chest, legs stretched out behind him. Roman growled halfheartedly and flopped back. “Go to sleep, Prince Boring. I’m keeping watch.”</p><p>The words made something long-tangled unravel in Roman’s chest. He made a noise of acquiescence and squished his face into the nest, calming even further at the familiar scents, and let himself drift.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: self-hatred, collars, self-harm, unreliable narrator, delirium, sickness</p></blockquote></div></div>
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